


Domestic Warfare

by mirkandmidnight



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkandmidnight/pseuds/mirkandmidnight
Summary: The guy who lives upstairs is a nuisance.





	Domestic Warfare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asimpleline18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimpleline18/gifts).



It starts, as most things do, When Bitty is trying to mind his own business. He's in his apartment alone on a Saturday night, trying out a new recipe for madeleines he's considering selling at the bakery, when there's an odd thumping noise coming from above him. He almost doesn't hear it over the music he's listening to, but there it is, an odd counterpoint to Beyonce's golden vocals.

He takes out one ear bud and squints up at his ceiling. The thumping continues at odd intervals, just loud enough and inconsistent enough that he can't just ignore it.

Bitty sighs, looking back and forth between the madeleines and the ceiling a few times. If he leaves the batter alone to go deal with his upstairs neighbor (some new guy he hasn't met yet and was planning on bringing baked goods to, but now see if he does) it's definitely going to get messed up. That said, he's not going to get anything done if the banging continues either.

So instead of confronting his problems like the adult human he's supposed to be, he goes to the closet, picks out the sturdiest broom he has, and starts banging on the ceiling with it. 

It feels good. Cathartic. After about thirty seconds, the banging on the other end stops, so he sets the broom against the kitchen table and goes back to his madeleines. Maybe now he can get a little peace and quiet. 

He manages another five minutes of work before the thumping starts up again, this time accompanied by a grinding, screeching noise. It can't be accidental. Then, a second later, music starts playing, a loud, thumping bass line with an unearthly wailing for vocals.

Bitty's shoulders tense up, and he sighs. Okay. Apparently this is going to be his Saturday night. He sticks the madeleines in the oven, sets the timer for 45 minutes, and goes to get the vacuum cleaner.

Vacuuming one's own ceiling when one is regrettably short is much more difficult than he would have anticipated. He has to stand on a stepstool to even reach, which is just upsetting. But it does the trick well enough, and soon Bitty is vacuuming peacefully away on the cracked and peeling white paint on his ceiling. For good measure, he turns his blender on as well. 

Bitty likes to think that he's a truly good person at heart. It's just that, if this new neighbor is going to ruin everyone else's sleep schedule doing whatever it is he's doing up there, Bitty is just going to have to push back. Call him petty, call him spiteful, but it's just justice. One person's night is ruined, and everyone else's has to be ruined too. 

After about five minutes of holding the vacuum up to the ceiling, Bitty's arms are starting to hurt, and he thinks he can hear someone pounding on his door. He turns off the vacuum and the blender, sighs, and heads for the front door, bracing for the confrontation that's certain to be coming.

The pounding continues, and he finds himself deliberately slowing his steps. Whoever this neighbor is, let them wait another ten seconds. Maybe it'll cool their hot head. But he reaches the door a few moments later, the pounding starting to make his head hurt, and whips the door open fully prepared to berate whoever's standing on the other side. It'd serve them right.

Bitty sees the man on the other side and for a second, he stops short, the reprimand that had been building in his mind completely vanishing. The man from upstairs is ridiculously tall, with icy blue eyes and a jaw line that could cut glass. His hair is messy, falling into his face in stupid (adorable, his filthy traitor mind supplies) dark strands. He's wearing a t shirt and sweatpants, neither of which disguise the fact that he's built like either a hitman or one of those people who spends every waking hour drinking protein shakes and working out at the gym.

Blue Eyes stares at him for a moment as well, then shakes his head vigorously. When he collects himself, his expression has shifted to something between outrage and exasperation. "What are you doing?" he demands, some accent Bitty can't place tugging his vowels lopsided. It's kind of cute.

Then the question registers, and Bitty's back to outrage. "What am I doing?" he repeats. "What are you doing? You're the one banging on my ceiling, and playing whatever kind of noise you call music, and--" he throws his hands up, "I don't even want to know what that scraping noise was." He pauses. "Look. Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life. But it's nearly midnight!"

Blue Eyes waves a hand. "Midnight? The clock that came with the apartment says it's 12, not 24:00." Then he mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like "putain d'amerique", not that Bitty has any idea what that means. 

"24:00?" Bitty mulls that over for a second. "Is that--is that military time? You know most people don't use that, right?"

There's a moment of silence, and then Blue Eyes groans and drags his hands down his face. "Oh my god," he says, voice muffled through his hands. "I completely forgot about that. I'm so sorry."

Bitty has to stifle a laugh. "How did you manage to not realize it's nearly midnight, and not noon? Did you not look outside?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "To be fair, I haven't slept in like two days, so that's not the sort of thing I would notice." He extends his hand for Bitty to shake. "I'm Jack, your idiot new neighbor."

Against his will, Bitty's finding himself a little charmed. Jack is good looking, he'd have to be an idiot to not notice it. And now that he's not actively making Bitty's life hell, he's kind of sweet. "I'm Bitty--Bittle--Eric." Dang it. Trust him to completely fall over himself in front of a cute boy.

Jack smiles a little. "Bitty. I like it." He glances around, putting his hands in his pockets. "Look, I feel bad for ruining your evening. Let me make it up to you with coffee sometime?"

Bitty nods, not trusting himself to speak at first. "That would be nice," he says. 

Jack gives a little wave. "I'll see you around, then," he says, and walks towards the stairwell. For a moment, Bitty watches his retreating back, and tries to fight the grin threatening to take over his face.

Maybe his new neighbor isn't so infuriating after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was not what I was actually planning to write for this exchange, but as it so often does, life happened, and I found myself a bit behind, so I ended up writing this instead as a kind of placeholder until I can actually get the fic done that I wanted to write? I'm so sorry? I hope you like this?


End file.
